Prevention
by ty-rant84
Summary: Series is together here- Some decisions shouldn't have to be made.
1. Prevention

Title: Prevention

Author: ty-rant84

Summary: Some decisions shouldn't have to be made…

Archiving: Just ask

Feedback: Rocks!

Parts: 1/1

Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville. I do own a really pretty picture of Tom Welling **g**

Rating: PG (maybe a little bit higher. It's got some questionable references. I just don't think it warrants a higher rating like PG-13)

A/N: I wrote this while listening to Switchfoot's "On Fire". Maybe it's just me being weird, but it was really perfect.

Mom and Dad,

Cassandra saw all of these different futures. The worst part is that when I was with her I saw them too. And in every single one, what they called life was horrible. There was no place untouched. No where that we couldn't go and destroy.

Radiation was deforming children. Babies weren't born. Even worse was when they were. Some were unlucky enough to be born in those worlds. They had to figure out how to survive in that hell.

Our world's not there yet. Almost, though. The potential we have is remarkable. Devastating. Horrifying. Everyone I know ended up dead and only I was left. Only me and billions of other faceless people. Twisted people with six fingers on each hand and extra feet. Radiation effects were everywhere. The use of nuclear bombs was inevitable after the chaos and confusion between entire nations got to be too much. And it happened in all the futures. It was just a matter of when. It always happened.

Lex was there though. He was always there. The one constant in Superman's life. That's what I called myself. The me in the future.

Lex is my best friend. I should have been comforted that I had at least that one person in my life. Through all the horrible times. Nothing could kill me anymore so I always survived for the end. Not even kryptonite could finish me off. I saw myself try a few times. Hundreds of times. I needed it to end and leave me in peace. I strapped myself down to blocks of the green stuff. I lay there for days, weak and incapable of even untying myself until I accepted that it was impossible for me to die from exposure to it. Couldn't even kill myself properly. Lex was usually the one to get me out of the kryptonite setups. It sounds like he cared when I say it like that. He just wanted to make sure I knew. That I knew he would always be there. He laughed as he took the ropes away. Mocked me for being so foolish as thinking that I would be able to give up that easily. Then he would get rid of all the kryptonite. I couldn't even have the hope that I could try again. Maybe it would work. I would make it work. Make it end.

I needed it to end. I wouldn't die though. I never did it right. I was too invulnerable I always had to go back out into the obscene mockery of a world. Back into the twisted limbs and fire torn streets. The explosions every other hundred feet or so. The yelling and screaming as a new infant was born. The sorrow as another one didn't survive more than a few moments. People running and never even looking back to see if their family made it out with them. Stealing every scrap of food from others and then dieing as they ate the contaminated sludge. I walked through it every time, and it was an awesome power to know that I would make it. A horrible knowledge that I wasn't allowed to leave while I knew that the world would never get better. That everyone would die.

As I gave up more and more of my hope, I was anchored all the more securely to the war stricken worlds. Places of mutation and famine. Plague ran through every section of the planet and most of space that humans had managed to venture into. No place, no one was unscathed except for me and Lex.

Lex was always okay. In every future I saw, he was there and looked no different from when I saw him yesterday. It's weird to think that none of what I saw and felt, what I lived, was real. It never happened. But it will and that is why I have to do this.

Lex was always there, but that's not a good thing. That's not anything to be happy about. He was my adversary. My opponent. He was always on the opposite side of where I stood.

In some of the futures, I was the one causing the destruction. Lex was the savior of the human population. He was always fighting me and preventing me from winning. From going as far as I wanted to. But, in most of the futures, it was Lex. He used his money and influence to slowly eat away at the structure of the governments and take over, destroying everything I know. Once he had finished with that, he started experimenting with his power. How many people could he kill before the public made a fuss over it? How many experiments could he perform on humans before they revolted? He only came to these options when the world was irreparable anyway. He rarely started out with these intentions.

No matter which future I went to, one of us was the cause of the destruction. One of us ended the world. It was either Lex or I and no one else managed to ever do what we did on our own. And that's why I have to do this. That's why I decided that this was the best option. I have to save you. I have to save everyone.

I only saw what would happen with what has happened already. It can be changed. And I saw a lot more of the outcomes than what I've mentioned. I know what led up to them. Either Lex or I betrayed the other. Most often it was me. I lied to him for years. I called him my best friend and still, I never told him my secret. I walked up to him every day and lied. Just like I do now. I never trusted him. I couldn't tell him my secret.

Sometimes, he would go too far in researching me and would find something too in depth for the good of the world. That's when things would go bad. That's when we got out of control. And that's why I have to eliminate the problem.

If we weren't friends, then the end of the world as we know it would never come about. I can't just stop seeing him, though. That happened in a few of the futures. He always just pushed harder into my past. No, I have to completely and utterly eliminate the problem.

There's only one way to stop those futures. Lex can't research through death. He can't end the world through death. He can't betray or be betrayed through death. And he won't. I won't let him. And that's why I'm doing this. Even though I hate the thought.

I wanted you to know that I don't think of you as bad parents. Nothing went wrong in my life to compel me to make this choice.

I'll never see you again. I'll miss you. Remember that I love you always, Mom and Dad. I've got to go do what I have to do. I'm not strong enough to be unbreakable yet. Biologically speaking anyway. Mentally, I have to be as strong as that Superman I was supposed to become. Dad, your shotgun is in the barn. I love you both. Tell Lex I loved him too. That's why I did it.

Remember me,

Clark


	2. Realizing

Title: Realizing

Author: ty-rant84

Summary: Everything was finally back to normal…

Archiving: Just ask

Feedback: Rocks!

Parts: 2/1 (And yes, that's correct)

Rating: G

A/N: I've started up and continued yet another one shot. Don't expect much. Blame VladLycan. Yet again I was listening to Switchfoot_- The Beautiful Letdown_. They're awesome.

Disclaimer: Are you kidding me?

"Martha, you go ahead, I'll get the rest of the bags." Jonathan kissed his wife and smiled as she walked off to the house. They'd just come back from town; everything had been getting back to normal again.

They'd had to deal with people consoling them for the loss of someone they'd never even met, that woman Cassandra. That happened to them a lot. Everyone in town seemed to think that they intimately knew whomever Clark had been dealing with for the week.

There were always going to be mutants in Smallville, but that didn't mean Jonathan and Martha had met them.

They'd had a nice time regardless. Martha had been able to buy Clark another blue shirt. Honestly, it was the only thing the boy would wear! Red and blue, blue and red, blue and blue, red and red. Some of their neighbors would say he only wore primary colors, but had anyone ever seen Clark in yellow? Most definitely not. Martha didn't mind, though. She took it as a challenge to find a variety of styles and clothes that Clark would wear. Whenever she found something, she had to buy it and couldn't wait to show Clark her accomplishment. Clark would marvel on the new clothes and wear it the very next day. Sometimes he'd even go up and change right then.

Jonathan was happiest when everything settled back down to how they were before Clark's powers kicked in. Well, that wasn't exactly true. They had a lot of good and wonderful times while Clark had his powers. It was just that they were always interrupted by some meteor 'freak' or someone new poking into their affairs. And with Lex Luthor's help, Clark had gotten into even more trouble. Luthor even started half of the problems.

It grated on Jonathan's nerves that Luthor could ruin Clark's life constantly but remain in his good graces. He'd run him over with a car the first time they had met for Pete's sake! Yet all was forgiven and forgotten. Maybe they'd raised their son a little too morally. As if.

Jonathan grabbed the last shopping bag and swung it onto his shoulder. Martha was already in the house and putting things away when he got in. She turned and smiled at him when he shut the door and everything was normal. Normal and happy.

"Jonathan, did you see Clark out there? He wasn't in his room."

"No, he probably went out to the Talon or to the Torch. He's been neglecting his friends lately."

"Now that's not fair. You know that he's had a lot to deal with," she looked reproachfully at her husband.

He grinned, "I know, there's always something he can use as an excuse. I just wish he would stop being forced to save everyone in this town. Next thing you know, he'll branch out, start a chain. First Smallville, next Metropolis! The perfect logo, 'Everyday farm boy by day, Superhero extraordinaire by night'. He could make a fortune."

"Jonathan, don't joke," Martha held back a snicker and struggled to keep a straight face.

"But of course. I'm going to finish up with the chores. I'll be back around four thirty?"

"Okay, that'll be fine. See you then."

"Oh, and send Clark out to help out if he comes back early enough."

"And if you see him, send him over quick so he can see the new shirt."

Martha watched Jonathan jog out to the field before beginning to prepare dinner. Tonight they were going to have fried chicken, Clark's favorite. He needed a treat after the shock of having that woman Cassandra die. He was such a strong boy, but no one should be dealing with what he had to at his age. She'd grown up in Metropolis and had never seen a mugging until she turned 24. He was just 15 and had already dealt with a lot. Not to mention adjusting so well to his powers and the differences he had with all of his peers. He was remarkable. Martha went back to the vegetables with a happy vigor. At least now things would get back to normal.

-. -. -. -

Jonathan was finally finished with the chores and was heading back to the house for dinner. Clark hadn't come out to help him out, so he had probably only gotten home right in time for dinner. He reached to open the screen door and saw Martha in the kitchen setting the table.

"Isn't that usually Clark's job? Why isn't he doing it for you?"

"He was with you, wasn't he?"

"No, he never came out to the field. Are you telling me he still isn't home? He knows better than to be out before dinnertime."

Martha sighed and glanced over to the phone, "I'll call Chloe and ask if she's seen him."

Jonathan nodded and took the plates from her. As she dialed the number, he finished setting the table.

"Hi, Chloe? Is Clark still with you? …. What do you mean he wasn't at school today? … He didn't show up? …. No, Clark wasn't sick. … That's what he told you? Oh, well… yes, thank you anyway. I'm sure he'll turn up in a minute or two. …Yes, I'll have him call you when he gets in. Bye now."

Jonathan paused in his task, "He didn't go to school?"

"Apparently not. Jonathan, I'm worried, this isn't like Clark. He'd tell us before doing anything rash like skip school."

"I know. I'll go check the Fortress. He's probably been up there the whole time. Nothing to worry about." He tried to reassure Martha even as he was walking out the door and then began running over to the barn.

Martha pulled out the silverware and started placing them in their proper spots before she heard the scream.

-.-.-.-


	3. Notification

Title: Notification

Author: ty-rant84

Summary: Sequel to Realizing, the sequel to Prevention- What no parent should ever have to see

Archiving: Just ask

Feedback: Rocks!

Parts: 3/1 (I know, it's ridiculous. That's what I tell myself every morning)

Disclaimer: I wish

A/N: I think I've even gotten hooked.

"He was just sitting there. Staring at the wall. And. I-I couldn't DO anything! He was so blank. And … just blank. Sitting there." Jonathan stared at the wall and continued to rock back and forth, a constant litany spewing from his mouth uncontrollably.

They had been at the hospital for three hours now. Ever since Jonathan had walked into the barn to see his son on the floor of the loft. Actual blood on the floor around his head. The shotgun on the floor next to the blood. The trigger curling around his limp fingers. Flecks of kryptonite catching the sun around the hole in his head.

The gaping hole that was so small. It seemed immense when Jonathan first saw it. Later, when they were in the living room, he had looked at it closer. It was so tiny and almost insignificant. Like a smear of red grease Clark had gotten while working on the truck. Everything was set up so perfectly for it to have been just that. A little bit of dirt or grime. Only the color was off. Jonathan had never seen Clark's blood before. Clark was his little invincible boy. He didn't get hurt. He just didn't. Never.

Martha had tried to fix him. They'd brought him to the living room, carried their boy from the barn loft to the living room couch. That was where Martha always fixed up injuries. At least, the ones that Jonathan had gotten. No one else ever got hurt. Martha tried to fix him though.

Jonathan had just had to stand there and feel helpless. Then, Martha had looked back to him, and he'd known. They wouldn't be able to fix this. That was when they had called the hospital.

They had actually never called there in all of Clark's time with them. They'd pretended like it was against their beliefs to go to the hospital. They had to do anything to protect that little boy. That strange little boy. No one could find out his secrets. Clark had never been admitted into a hospital before. Not even when he was adopted, the adoption had been done so quickly. In fact, Clark had almost never been away from home.

He didn't go to sleepovers, he'd never gone very far out of town. He didn't visit with relatives. Was it odd that the first time he stayed somewhere new he was in a hospital? Clark should never have had to go there. He could see people who went there. Friends and parents who were admitted, but he should never be in there for himself. Especially after he had shot himself in the head point blank with his father's shotgun. With a kryptonite bullet.

"He shouldn't have been so blank. Clark's not empty. He doesn't stare off into space like that. Staring at the wall. So blank. Our boy was so blank-."

Martha was sitting next to him. She didn't touch him and she didn't move. Not since the last doctor had came into the room. Not since she'd heard the news. Once the doctor had told her what happened. What the bullet had done. What Clark had done to himself. How there was no one else who could have done it under the circumstances. How Clark had most probably committed- committed-. No, no, NO! He did not do that. Her boy couldn't have done that. Her sweet innocent boy. No.

"Mrs. Kent. Mr. Kent? I came as soon as I heard. What happened?" Lex walked into the waiting room. So out of place in the efficient, boring room. He was holding a briefcase. It was still open though. Not really open, but the zipper was halfway undone. Lex was never anything short of immaculate. He should have done up the zipper.

"You should fix your folders, Lex. They're sticking out of the briefcase." Martha stared at the papers for a moment before jerking her head up to meet Lex's eyes.

Lex glanced between the stony Mrs. Kent and her husband. He just kept rocking back and forth. Why was he doing that? "That doesn't matter; what happened, Mrs. Kent? What happened to Clark?"

"He- he… there was some blood. And he wasn't saying anything. Didn't show up to dinner either."

"Oh god. …What HAPPENED?"

Jonathan slowly took a breath in and lifted his head a few inches, "Our son shot himself. That's what happened."

-..-.-.-.-.


	4. Awareness

Title: Awareness

Author: ty-rant84

Summary: Why is everything the same?

Archiving: Just ask

Feedback: Rocks!

Parts: 4/1

Disclaimer: I'm not in the owning way, no.

Rating: PG (maybe a little bit higher. It's got some questionable references. I just don't think it warrants a higher rating like PG-13)

A/N: Oddly enough, I'm still listening to Switchfoot. I have no life.

The house was quiet when they got back. Visiting hours were over. They had to be home now. They couldn't stay with their… their son.

The table was still set. The shopping bags were by the door. It only made them remember even more of the past day.

Dinner was perfectly set up. It was like the pictures on a calendar. The perfect family set up. The dinner was on the table. The only problem, only things out of place, were the forks on the table in a stack where Jonathan had left them to go and find Clark. It was the last most normal thing he could have done. After that, nothing was normal anymore.

There was another thing out of place, though. There was a single sheet of paper on the counter. It was propped up against the sugar jar. One white paper folded into thirds. It said 'Mom and Dad' on it.

Martha walked over slowly, lethargically, towards it and picked it up with a trembling and shaking hand. As it was unfolded, Jonathan kept watching in a frozen state of horror.

"'Dear Mom and Dad…" Martha trailed off in her reading and her eyes opened up wide. "Oh god… he- he…" she broke down in sobs and slumped down to the kitchen floor. Collapsing against the edge of the counter, she just kept crying and leaning into herself more. Trying to get so close that she would disappear. So she could just not deal with this right now. So she could stop living with the pain and reach a level of unawareness. Why did her son so this? Why didn't he come to them? Was it so bad?

Jonathan came over and kneeled down next to her. He took the letter from her weak hand and started to read it to himself. By the time he was finished, he was crying with his wife. He tried to understand his sons reasoning. Clark always did have that hero complex. He didn't have to take it to this state of reasoning, though. Why did – why ask questions now, there was nothing they could do about it now. They should have paid more attention before he… just before.

Maybe Clark wasn't the well adjusted boy they had believed him to be. He'd just been so good at lying that he'd managed to keep it from them. Another lesson they'd gone overboard on. Never tell the truth. Someone could get hurt.

After about an hour of silence, Jonathan saw the sun go down through the window above the sink. He struggled to his feet and stood for a minute, catching the last rays as they fell behind the cornfields. He leaned back down and picked up his wife, his Martha, his only family left.

They stayed quiet even as they changed into pajamas. Martha laid down on the bed, not even bothering to lift up the covers. She lay on top of the perfectly made bed. Jonathan sat down next to her and brushed her hair out of her face. Something else she ignored in her state of confusion. She flinched away from his touch.

-.-.-.-.-.

Martha jolted up as the phone rang. Frantically, she looked around, trying to figure out what was happening, where she was. Finally, she picked up the ringing phone and brought it to her ear. "Hello?" she whispered through her disused voice.

"Hello, this is the office at Smallville High. We were just calling to see if Clark was sick, since he hasn't shown up to school yet. Normally, parents should call in if the child is ill so we don't mark him as skipping school."

"… Oh. Clark- Clark is…," Martha paused as she remembered what had happened the night before. What Clark had done. She started crying again.

Jonathan woke up to the sobs of his wife. He looked over and saw her on the phone. Reaching over, he took it from her and asked, "Who is this?" quietly.

"This is Smallville High. Is Clark sick today? He hasn't shown up at school."

"Clark… yes, he's sick."

"Thank you, and sorry fo-"

Jonathan hung up.

-.-.-.-.-.


	5. Reaction Time

The car ride to the hospital was one of the quietest moments Jonathan and Martha had ever experienced. They had never been so disconnected since the day Martha had been told she would never have any children. This day was worse. Clark couldn't fix this. Clark couldn't fix anything.

The truck pulled into the parking lot. Martha sat rigidly straight in her seat. She barely moved until Jonathan built up the courage to break the eerie stillness within the truck. The door was opened and the resounding sound was deafening to his tired ears. He jumped in surprise even though he had been the one to cause the sound in the first place. Jonathan didn't want to be able to hear or feel anything. Martha couldn't.

As they walked into the hospital, Jonathan realized that he couldn't remember what number the room was. How could he forget the room where his son was… was….

Martha continued robotically past him and down the hall. Following her lead, Jonathan tried not to look in any of the rooms they passed by, but he couldn't help it. Patients with tubes sticking out of what seemed like everywhere were lying asleep. Some of them were awake and visiting with family. Some weren't.

The big block letters peered down at the couple as they went through the swinging doors. They weren't so much as letters like they were a sentence. I see you. I see you. ICU.

Jonathan tried to ignore the creepy sentence that echoed through this wing.

Finally, they reached the room where their… son was. Where he resided. Where his body rested. Actually, there was no right way to say it. Jonathan could try, but there really was no way to say what he was trying to, even in his own head.

Martha wasn't opening the door. She was standing there in front of it, but her hand hadn't left her side. Jonathan stayed behind her for a minute before reaching around her to twist the knob.

What was Lex doing there? He sat there, surrounded by his laptop and a cup of coffee. It was in a Styrofoam cup the hospital sold it in. Lex didn't drink cheap coffee. He'd even bought the Talon a latte machine so that he could get quality drinks. He didn't drink cheap coffee.

His briefcase was there too. It was propped up against the hospital chair Lex sat in. The seat couldn't be that comfortable. He couldn't be happy about that either.

"Lex? What are you doing here?" Martha seemed to snap into focus with reality.

"I just, … I couldn't leave yet."

"You should have gone home and gotten some sleep. It's not like he's going anywhere. He'll always be here." Martha murmured as she stared at her son.

"The doctor came in a few times. He did some tests. He said that, that there was so much damage to the brain that… Clark probably won't ever wake up. They're amazed that he even survived."

"But he didn't." Martha couldn't tear her eyes away from the form of her son. He looked almost exactly as if he was sleeping. If only for the shock white bandages around his head and the monitors and the sharp hospital smell, he could have just been sleeping. It could have been any other day and she could have been coming to wake him up for school. Any of it could have been happening. But it wasn't. And he wasn't going to wake up and go to school.

Jonathan moved past his wife and stood by Clark's side. He reached down, taking the limp hand into his.

Lex looked between the two parents. They were so different from the people he had seen just days before. Martha was cold. She had never been cold before. She had been warmth and happiness. She had been home.

Jonathan was withdrawn. He had been so straightforward and passionate. He had been the protector and fighter for his family. Had been.


	6. Proceedings

Title: Proceedings

Author: ty-rant84

Summary: oh, just read it already

Archiving: Just ask

Feedback: Rocks!

Parts: 6/1

Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville. I do own a really pretty picture of Tom Welling g

Rating: PG (maybe a little bit higher. It's got some questionable references. I just don't think it warrants a higher rating like PG-13)

A/N: beta'd by the amazing, outstanding, stunningly good looking rallalon! _waves_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Dr. Jamison only had an hour before his break. He was at Smallville General, a small hospital in some hick town in the middle of the States. He'd only arrived seven hours ago and had been busy ever since. Finally, he would be allowed to stop looking at the same information again and again, trying to find another conclusion. Something different from what his colleagues had declared over and over. Something to give the family hope.

Apparently, Smallville General only dealt with farming accidents and what looked like severe mutations in the inhabitants of the town and surrounding area. Those surprisingly nature-defiant patients were usually only in the hospital for a day or two before either dieing or being shipped out to Belle Reve, the nearest asylum. The case he'd been working on wasn't one of those.

This one patient didn't have an unimaginable power from radiation exposure. He wasn't even hurt because of a 'mutant' as many of the few people they saw in the Emergency Room were. He most definitely didn't have a farming injury.

Dr. Jamison had seen cases like this patient's before. Those had been where he really worked, though. Those were all happening in the big cities and the gang-infested ghettos. You didn't see kids like him in Smallville. It just wasn't done.

The boy was probably one of millions of teenagers with troubled minds. He'd taken it one step too far and had landed himself here. This boy, Clark Kent, had taken the chaotic world of his life into his own hands.

The problem was that this Clark hadn't quite succeeded. Clark had effectively stopped whatever was troubling him so much. He'd halted his own pain, but he'd only prolonged it for his parents.

"God, I hate this," he muttered as he walked up to the room.

The parents would have to decide now. Fuck, why couldn't the kid have just killed himself instead of making his parents order it?

He opened the door.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kent?"

He hated it when the kids screwed up their own deaths. Just kill yourself and be done with it. Don't make your parents have to shut off life support for a brain-dead shell.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Smallville High didn't look any different. In fact, every single person in there was the same as they'd been yesterday. Nothing incredibly life-changing had happened in the last twenty-four hours. At least, the students didn't know about it. The only unusual occurrences were outside of the building.

The sleek silver car just beyond the school line shouldn't have been there at 12:00 in the afternoon. It had been seen before, of course, but not this early in the day. Even that didn't mean anything to most of the students. After all, Lex Luthor could do whatever he wanted in this town. If he wanted to sit in his car doing nothing for an hour, then he could. Even if he was in a no parking zone. In front of a fire hydrant.

Lex had been driving around after leaving Clark. He hadn't quite realized where he was going until he got there. When he'd stopped next to the curb and put the car in park, he'd been surprised to look up and see the school. He had no reason to go there. He probably never would again. No one that mattered went there. Not anymore.

He'd left the hospital for the first time in a day. Lex had kept working while he was there, but that was only so he didn't have to deal with his father who would arrive without fail or concern to berate his son about letting the simple injury of a farm boy interfere with business production. Lionel never missed an opportunity like that.

Lex still tried to use the company resources to help Clark. The charity money he was in charge of had already been rerouted to head injury research and teen aid. He'd had the hospital call in some of the best doctors in the world to see Clark and give their own second opinions. It had all been simple enough. A few bribes and offers of obscene amounts of money as payment and Clark was in the most capable hands money could buy. Too bad money wasn't enough.

The Kents didn't know about any of the special considerations Lex had made. They weren't at their best; they hadn't even noticed the private room Clark had been moved into.

Lex was lucky he had so much money. Without it, he would never have gotten Clark's information or have been able to move him to the room. Hell, he wouldn't even have been allowed to see his friend.

Why would Clark try to kill himself? He'd had dreams and plans for his future. They'd talked about it. He wanted to go to college and see the world outside of Smallville. Clark wouldn't even get to graduate High School. He was never going to play pool or ask for advice again. Lex wouldn't be able to give him that damn truck he had sitting in his garage. Fuck, he wouldn't be able to do anything.

How could Clark just throw his life away?

Lex tried to think of what had happened the last few times they'd seen each other. Clark hadn't done anything differently. He hadn't been sad or depressed or… anything. Clark was Clark. Nothing was different.

Why would he do that? Fuck, why?

Lex stared out the windshield of his car. The school doors opened and a bunch of children, teenagers, came walking out. They were probably going to eat lunch outside. Yet another thing Clark would never do.

There was a flash of blonde hair in the crowd. Lex's eyes suddenly focused in on that one feature and slowly broadened his sight as the color came closer to him. It was… Chloe? Yeah, that was Chloe, and Pete was right behind her. Their faces kept getting clearer as he stared fixatedly at them.

Were they coming to him? What would they ask? Did they know?

Lex quickly put the car in gear and pealed down the street.

He couldn't deal with this right now. Not now. Not ever.


	7. Unknowing

Author: tyrant84

Part: seven

Rating: PG otherwise known as K+

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, but here you go : )

.-.-.-.-.-

"That was Lex, right?" Chloe turned to Pete as he caught up to her, and the flashy car pealed down the street.

"Who else has a car like that in Smallville? Why'd he leave so fast?"

"I don't know. I was hoping he'd know where Clark is. I haven't seen or heard from him. I mean, everyone skips once in a while, but it's Clark. And he's been absent two days in a row. When's the last time Clark was out without calling one of us first?"

"Clark was absent again? Man, I thought you called his house yesterday. Didn't Mrs. Kent say anything?"

"No, she didn't know where he was. She said that she'd call me back, but I've got nothing so far."

"Are you sure he's not here?"

"Pete, I haven't seen him in any classes we have together, and he's not here for lunch." She looked pointedly at him. "What do you think?"

"You're right. Clark? Skipping a meal? Something must be wrong." Pete grinned as Chloe laughed and hit his shoulder. "Seriously, Chloe, call his house again later. Maybe he's actually gotten sick, for once in his life."

"Yeah right. Clark never gets sick. No. Something's up."

"Chloe, everything's a big story to you! He's just sick." Pete watched Chloe as her face went from perturbed to resolved. There was no way she was going to let this go. "Come on, we'll have time to eat and check the office to see if Mrs. Kent called him in sick if we go back now."

Chloe looked back down the street Lex had driven down. Maybe the office would have some answers for her. She turned to follow Pete back into the school. If Clark hadn't been called in, then something was up. Something had to be up.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"He'll never wake up."

"We don't know that, Martha!" Jonathan yelled desperately.

"The doctors already told us. You were there. There's too much damage. Clark won't ever wake up."

"But it's Clark. He might… maybe there's something different in him. We don't know how his body works. What it needs. Maybe he's okay. He's… he'll survive this."

"Survive? Jonathan, our son _shot_ himself. This isn't some accident and it's not another meteor reaction. This isn't something we can stop. You want to talk about maybe? Maybe he didn't want to wake up." Martha was standing next to the bed as she talked to Jonathan. From his seat next to Clark, Jonathan looked up at his wife as if he couldn't recognize her.

"This is Clark, Martha. He'll survive this. He will. You just need to have some faith in him. God, you won't even look at him! How do you know what's going to happen if you can't even fucking look at him!" Jonathan stared at her for a long, quiet moment before a resigned shadow cast over his features. He turned away to look fixatedly at Clark, clutching onto his son's hand all the harder s if he would slip away through his fingers. As if letting go would be saying he would never come back.

Without another word, Martha walked to the door and looked back at her husband once before stepping out of the room. After she heard the click as the door shut, she turned to lean against the wall in the hallway. Martha stood rigidly for a moment, but she couldn't stay standing. A sob escaped her mouth. One after the other, they slowly overwhelmed her until her knees gave out. Curling into herself and the wall, she thought about her family. How could Jonathan not see? Clark had wanted this. He'd only made it so obvious.

Her hands came up, trying to hold back the barrage of sobs, the rush of tears. Why didn't Jonathan realize? Clark couldn't, didn't even want to wake up. He'd been that unhappy, that distressed. Clark had made his decision, and they couldn't take it back. No matter how much Jonathan fought it. No matter how much she wanted to. Why even try? It was hard enough finding him like that. Why make Jonathan feel hope only to rip it away over and over again?

Why force him through so much pain?

Martha brought her hands down. She had to compose herself. She couldn't give in; she had to be strong. For Jonathan. He couldn't handle this right now. She had to be there for him. For her family.

Family. Oh god, what about her father? She had to tell their relatives. They didn't even know about… no one knew yet. Just Jonathan, her, and Lex. She needed to notify the school. What about Chloe and Pete and Lana? How could she tell them? How did you give that type of news to anyone? Martha had to be strong, but god, all of those people. All those poor, unknowing people.

Oh Clark, I hope those other realities were worse than this. I hope it was worth it. I hope you saw things so horrible, I could never imagine them. They had better be worse than this. I just don't see how anything could be.

Martha stood up and walked back into the room. When she saw Jonathan, she dragged another chair over and took his hand, sitting in a quiet vigil over their son.


	8. Discovering

Discovery

Part 8

.-.--.-.-.-.-..-..--.-.-..

The door slammed shut behind her. Martha slowly walked through the kitchen of her quiet home and tried not to see the perfect table or the letter they had dropped on the floor. She walked past them, not thinking about anything. She had obligations. Things that had to be done. She couldn't break down now, and looking at those little reminders would crack her stony shell.

That's what it felt like she was now, a shell. A hollowed out corpse with no feeling inside. No emotions, no personality, and no weaknesses. Nothing could touch her and she could deal with surviving through a day. Nothing could reach her, because she was nothing.

She made it into her bedroom and sat on her side of the bed, as she had when they had first come home yesterday. The phone was right there and she needed to start calling. She had to keep the world moving and let the news move on to others. If no one knew, though, then it was almost as if it wasn't happening. Everyone would act the same and they wouldn't even realize that everything had gone horribly wrong.

Martha could go to the market and act as if it was just another day. She could be consoled for the loss of that woman, Cassandra, a person she had never met. People would look on at her sympathetically and she could brush it off, because she hadn't known that woman. She would simply accept their pity and move on, because she felt no grief. People would forget about it over the week and something more exciting would happen for everyone to never give it a second thought. Would they act the same with Clark? Forget she had ever had a son? Look at her with pity and move on to the next part of their day.

She couldn't live like that. She couldn't pretend that nothing out of the normal had occurred and she couldn't forget. She had to deal with this. And to deal, she had to pick up the phone lying so casually before her. Who to call? Who would she hurt first? Who would be given the awful news first?

Jonathan was still at the hospital with Clark. He hadn't left his side. Night and day, Jonathan was there, holding onto the lifeless hand. Sometimes, he would clutch onto it and, if Martha opened the door quietly and didn't announce her presence, she could hear him talking at the motionless form.

They couldn't keep living in this limbo. Not going anywhere, not healing, not trying, and not doing anything to help their little boy. They needed to move forward. They had to get the world turning again.

Martha picked up the phone and dialed, number by number.

She clutched onto the receiver as tightly as she had seen Jonathan holding on to the hand she hadn't touched in days.

"Hello, may I speak to Principal Kwan, please?"

.-.-..-.-.---.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.--…

"Ms. Corten?"

"Yes?"

"Could you come down to the office for a staff meeting?"

"Now?"

"Yes, now. It's urgent."

"Alright, I'll be there in a minute," Ms. Corten hung up the phone and grabbed the last of the essays. She'd been at the school for three long hours after the last bell rang. Maybe she'd be able to finish correcting before dinner that night, though it didn't seem to be a likely possibility. Principal Kwan just had to call a surprise meeting now.

She turned out the lights of her classroom and locked the door behind her before heading down the hall.

When she entered the office, the secretary, old Mrs. White, the same secretary from when she had gone to Smallville High, pointed to the door and went back to her typing with an air of dismissal.

It was odd that even after four years of college and another year of teaching, she was still intimidated by the principal's office, she thought as the standard butterfly feeling grew with every step towards Kwan's office. Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, Ms. Corten entered the room, surprised to see that six of her colleagues were already there.

They were an odd group of people, science, history, math, and Spanish teachers and the two guidance counselors.

"Sorry I'm late," she said while going to sit in the last available chair.

"That's fine, Ms. Corten. Thank you all for coming in on such short notice. I called you all in here to discuss a particular student. Yesterday there was… an accident on Kent farms and Clark Kent is in the hospital. He's in a coma right now, but the doctors… they don't think he's going to wake up."

A slow silence stretched through the tight circle of adults. Every one of them had Clark in one of their classes. Every one of them knew him.

"As his teachers, I wanted to tell you first. You're going to need to be ready to answer questions in your classes when the news is announced tomorrow."

Ms. Corten's mind went blank except for one thought, "What… what happened to him?"

Principal Kwan looked down at his folded hands and said in a strained but steady voice, "All evidence at the farm pointed to an attempted suicide."

"Kent? He doesn't… he didn't act like… he was so happy though. He has… had a good life. Right?"

"We don't know why he thought he had to do it, but we have to think about how this will affect the school and the students. A session is being made available for any of the students to go and talk about Clark, and guidance counselors should be prepared. Nothing like this has happened here before. People are going to be… shocked."

Ms. Corten looked up with her troubled and haggard face, "Is there anything we can do for the Kents?"

She'd known the Kents since she was… well, for her entire life. She remembered seeing Clark for the first time after he was adopted. She remembered the wonderful people Jonathan and Martha had been and how they had been made more complete by having their son. She remembered how happy they had been. How could Clark have been so lost that he chose suicide as a way out? What could be so horrible?

"The Kents? They just lost their son. I don't know ifanyone can do anything to help them."


End file.
